


Limbo

by Shooting_StarI



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Angst, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-09
Updated: 2018-12-09
Packaged: 2019-09-15 00:06:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16922952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shooting_StarI/pseuds/Shooting_StarI
Summary: Vergil's grief and Kyrie's longing crashing together in the Hell's anteroom.Written and posted thanks to a discussion prompt with my fellow writer Belbe.





	Limbo

**Author's Note:**

> with special dedication to Belbe and Kat

Their feet sank into the ground with every step, as if being slightly pulled from underneath with invisible limbs. The wet, dirty-colored sand was filling the entirety of visible space, touching with the empty horizon.

Walking through the half-darkened desolation, they couldn't distinguish the day from the night, as the pale, bloody-colored moon observed them from above in every passing second. Their travel was long, slowly taking away the remnants of their hope, gradually sucking away their life forces, as if purposely pushing them further into madness.

Vergil has been getting more and more tired lately, weary of the deceiving, illusional surroundings. His head was spinning even in his sleep, his vision rarely gaining sharpness. There were times when he almost gave himself into the illusions, his demonic nature miraculously bringing him back to his senses in the last possible moment. Among his thoughts, he had found a possibility that it may have been the Hell itself already toying with him, using his weakness to torture his cursed mind. He knew it wouldn’t take much for him to succumb into deceiving sands.The demon inside him was already closing his eyes from exhaustion.

Carelessly putting step after step, he listened to her labored breaths, as she was trying to keep up with his pace. They have been walking this difficult path with no perspective for finding any relief and yet she didn’t say a single word. Even though knew he heard her crying in her sleep, even though he saw her barely holding on in the overwhelming silence.

He saw through her a long time ago. She was involved with something religious, probably has been looking at some boy at her age with sparkling eyes. She was like a flower; a  beautiful, white lily among the endless, howling dessert.

_ “Will you come back to us?” _

He gritted his teeth, hearing the distant voice in his memories.  _ It was just hell’s another trick, right? _

It had nothing to do with him, and if she was indeed a flower, then she could only wait to be brutally ripped out and crushed. She was no warrior, just a mere human with no tools to shape her destiny. She was weak and useless, incapable of keeping herself safe in such an environment.   
For him, she had nothing to offer.

Yet, she recklessly clinged to his side, following his every step with greatest devotion, as if expecting him to save her from that neverending nightmare. With pleading, stubborn eyes she denied the coldest of his stares and the harshest of his words, pattering behind him like  a dog. He winced slightly, bitter taste spreading on his tongue.

_ That momentarily lost poodle would not make a stray, wounded mongrel more noble. _

* * *

The only thing Kyrie remembered clearly in this ocean of illusions, was the bright light of some magic, and the grey numbness that came after. She was thrown into some sort of trance, past and futuristic visions mixing inside her mind. Fortuna, Credo, her recitals…  
 _Nero watching her sing from the back row._  It was a cycle; she was awake just surrender to sleep the next second, her mind drifting away into distant memories.   
Until he found her. 

She didn’t even know his name, his voice sounding like a luxury in his silent attitude. He was always covered with a dirty cloak, only a small piece of his porcelain skin visible. Kyrie tried asking, but he wasn’t answering. She tried talking, but his ears were deaf. He was like a cold rock in this god-forsaken desert.

She heard his teeth grit and a few moments later he paused his step midway.

“Camp.” He uttered, marking the sand with the tip of his sword, as he circled around a small area. 

She nodded silently, stepping inside the circle; almost instantly she fell onto her knees and sat on the unstable surface. He didn’t pay attention to her, just silently sat at the opposite of her. She eyed him cautiously, turning her head away the moment he looks at her. She kept her eyes focused on the sand, as the exhaustion kept her pinned in one place.

Vergil silently counted the number of breaths she took that time, as that simple task kept his mind relatively sharp. She laid on the cold ground for minutes then hours, just silently looking into the ugly sky. A quiet sigh escaped her lips, when Vergil thought that she may have stopped being aware of his presence.

 

“Listen to my voice calling you…,” she sang with a raspy, broken voice, “calling you out of darkness…” 

_ “Do you need to go?” _

“Hear the devil’s cry of sin…”

_ “Please, don’t go yet, Vergil…” _

"Always turn your back on him…”

Vaguely aware of himself, he listened to the song playing inside his mind. He saw her watery eyes, he felt her hand on his cloak, the child moving under her skin.  _ She asked, she begged, and he still left.  _ The cold sweat appeared on his stiff back, as he clenched his hands around the hilt of his sword.

The voice was getting louder and louder, ringing in his skull like a migraine, until he was unable to stay put.

“Stop this, woman!” He screamed, leaping towards the singing Kyrie. Startled, she saw his face so close to hers, that his hitching breath was warming her face. 

“Sir...?” She whispered, eyeing his familiar looking eyes.

“Why do humans crave death so much,” he growled pinning her wrists with his hands, “that they lure demons out so recklessly?!”

She gulped, as he gritted his teeth once again. As fast as he appeared above her, he moved back into a standing position.

“Get up, we are moving.” He announced dryly, avoiding the questioning gaze of her eyes. She hurriedly stood up, her legs tangling in her dress. 

 

_ She definitely wasn’t like her. _

He definitely was like him.  

 


End file.
